


In equity

by tempus_teapot (dreadnot)



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: D/s, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-07
Updated: 2011-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-27 01:24:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/290058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadnot/pseuds/tempus_teapot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders/Fenris D/s PWP written for a tumblr milestone request.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In equity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blondielovesbroody](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=blondielovesbroody).



“You are certain?”

“I said I was.”

“You said it, but I must hear it again before we cross that threshold.”

“How many times do I have to say I’m certain for you to believe me? Yes. Yes, yes.”

“And Justice? He understands that this is mutual?”

“He knows that you aren’t forcing me even if he doesn’t understand why either of us would want this.”

“Then we will show him. You have been taking too much on your shoulders and have forgotten how to put it all down.”

“...yes”

“And it affects us both.”

“...yes.”

“And neither of us are happy.”

“...yes.”

“Then I will do this for you and you will do this for me. Do you remember the word we chose?”

“Sky.”

“Sky. Then open the door and go inside.”

• • •

The empty bedroom that Fenris and Anders had cleaned earlier in the day was far more comfortable than the room Fenris used for his living quarters. The roof was whole, the windows unbroken, and the air was warm from the fire that Fenris had started before fetching Anders to begin their evening.

“Take off your clothes.”

Anders shook himself out of examining the small changes Fenris had made since sending Anders out of the room once they had finished clearing out the cobwebs and dust, setting the furniture to rights and putting fresh bedding on the large bed. Fenris saw him take in the details – the rug and chair Fenris had put in front of the fire, the small table next to the chair with a bottle of wine and a single glass, the familiar jar of salve on the same table – and nod to himself before his fingers went to the clasp of his coat.

“Over there.” Fenris pointed to a spot near the mantle that was well-lit from both the fireplace and the candelabra on the mantle.

Fenris settled into the chair to watch Anders, pouring a glass of wine to hold without drinking while Anders removed his boots and belts, his coat, his tunic – always too damned many clothes – his trousers and socks, and finally, turning to ensure that Fenris had eyes only for him, Anders pushed his smalls down off his hips and tossed them on top of the pile of clothes.

Fenris examined him from head to toe, keeping his expression studiedly neutral. To say that he approved of the sight of Anders like this would be a gross understatement, but he wanted Anders hungry for his attention and approval.

“Untie your hair.”

Anders raised his hands to his hair, but not without a certain cocky cant to his hips and an inviting stretch of his torso that had Fenris caught between suppressing both a smile and a vague sense of annoyance.

He tapped a gauntleted finger against his glass to make it chime when Anders tossed the leather tie to join his clothes and combed his fingers through his hair.

The fire and candlelight were warm on Anders’ skin, turning the spreading flush of desire on his cheeks and chest into rich rose and red that artists struggled and failed to capture. They could never replicate the subtle dusting of red-gold on Anders’ skin from the hair that grew coarse in some places, like his cheeks and in a strip from his navel down to his pubic hair, and fine over his arms, legs, and chest. He was beautiful, and while he would never belong exclusively to Fenris in their peculiar triangle of a relationship, tonight Fenris had the right and expectation to come _first._

He dropped his gaze to Anders’ groin, finally allowing himself the ghost of a smile, a twitch of lips – there and gone so quickly a casual observer would have missed the fleeting expression. From the subtle swell of Anders’ cock, Fenris did not doubt that Anders had seen it.

“Touch yourself,” he said before taking a sip of dark red wine, rolling the rich flavor over his tongue before swallowing. “I want to see you hard.”

Anders cupped a hand under his scrotum to lift himself for Fenris’ view. Was it unusual for a free man to respond so immediately and willingly to a bedroom command? Fenris didn’t know, but ultimately, what did it matter? Anders responded, and that was all he needed.

Anders’ eyes never left his face while he lifted his cock and supported it with his fingers under the shaft, sliding them up to the head in a gentle stroke that was more like petting than self-pleasure. Such gentleness would have been annoying to Fenris, not arousing, but the continued slow swell of Anders’ cock to fullness showed the difference in their tastes.

When Anders was hard Fenris motioned to the rug at his feet. “Kneel there.”

Anders knelt where Fenris indicated, spreading his knees when Fenris nudged them apart with a foot. He put the glass to Anders’ lips to allow him a sip of wine before he set the glass aside and took up the jar of salve.

“Use this.”

Anders’ eyebrows rose in silent question, but he dipped his fingers into the jar when Fenris held it out for him at eye level.

Fenris took him by the wrist and put his hand back on his cock. Leaning down to reach, he put his lips to Anders’ ear. “You’re going to continue what you started while you convince me with your mouth that I should unlace my leathers and let you suck me.”

Anders’ skin broke with goosebumps, but better still was the small whimper he bit back before nodding.

“You will not come,” Fenris went on, putting a low growl into the words. “Tell me you understand.”

Anders gave a tiny nod and breathed, “I understand.”

Fenris straightened, stretching his legs out to either side of Anders’ hips while he waited for Anders to smooth the salve onto his cock and start stroking.

He wanted to grab Anders by the hair and pull his face down into his crotch, but he held back, curious to see how Anders would go about convincing him. Just the anticipation already had the leathers pulled tight over the swell of his cock.

Anders started by leaning in to nuzzle Fenris’ thigh, lips pressing tight, breath heating the leather. The little sounds he made seemed more in enjoyment of this simple act of intimacy than for the slow stroke of his hand on his cock – a motion Fenris could observe in the languid rise and fall of Anders’ right sounder and the slow roll of his hips. The movement carried through Anders’ body to the press of his lips on Fenris’ thigh, moving with slow licks and kisses up the open V of his legs until Anders’ breath was warming the leather directly over the solid line of his cock under the leather.

Fenris settled his hand on top of Anders’ head, mindful of the joints in his gauntlet that might catch hair and pull. Anders’ head was warm under his bare palm, but he exerted no pressure, satisfied for the moment with the anticipation and need that burned low in his gut. It flared just a little higher with each stroke of Anders’ tongue along the length of his shaft. The anticipation grew to an ache, but it was a good ache – the kind that could be nurtured for the eventual satisfaction of easing it.

Anders’ efforts grew more desperate, along with muffled groans that vibrated perfectly along Fenris’ skin until Anders stopped stroking himself to clasp Fenris’ thighs with both hands. His hips thrust in a hopeless quest to find more stimulation while Anders moaned a wordless plea against Fenris’ leathers.

Fenris petted his hair a last time before taking his hand away to pick up the glass of wine.

Anders made a sound of protest and pressed his lips tightly along the length of Fenris’ shaft before he leaned back on his heels. His lips were full and reddened, his eyes almost glassy with need. A glance down showed Anders’ cock jutting between his legs, slick with salve and precum.

Fenris gave Anders another fleeting smile as a reward for his self-control before he put the glass to Anders’ lips to allow him another sip of wine. It was a start, but not yet enough for either of them.

Fenris took a sip of wine after Anders, turning the glass to put his lips where Anders’ had touched the rim. He imagined he could taste the mage, even if he knew that all he was tasting was wine. He set the wine aside and leaned down for a kiss. All the distraction and inattention from Anders that had spurred this interlude was gone – Anders rose up as much as his position would allow, his breath coming in anxious gasps before he parted his lips for Fenris to press his tongue between them to take a real taste of the man.

The effort of self-control made parting no easier for Fenris than it was for Anders, but Anders had the luxury of showing it. Fenris had to force his stoic mask back into place despite the cracks he felt developing from the mounting pressure of wanting.

“Lie down.” He made the order gruff to cover the hoarse catch in his throat. “Hands in the small of your back.”

Again, Anders’ eyebrows went up, but he lay back on the rug and slid his hands under his body, palms flat under the small of his back. It made for effective restraint wtihout waking bad memories for either of them.

Fenris took a sip of wine after Anders, turning the glass to put his lips where Anders’ had touched the rim. He imagined he could taste the mage, even if he knew that all he was tasting was wine. He set the wine aside and leaned down for a kiss. All the distraction and inattention from Anders that had spurred this interlude was gone – Anders rose up as much as his position would allow, his breath coming in anxious gasps before he parted his lips for Fenris to press his tongue between them to take a real taste of the man.

Again, Anders’ eyebrows went up, but he lay back on the rug and slid his hands under his body, palms flat under the small of his back. It made for effective restraint wtihout waking bad memories for either of them.

Fenris took another sip of wine while he imprinted the image of Anders into his memory. The firelight was kind to him, softening his scars while casting sharp lines of muscle into elegant relief. He worked his way up from the anxious wiggle and clench of Anders’ toes, over the solid bulk of calves built up from the endless walking and running they did with Hawke, lingering on Anders’ thighs while his memory offered up treasured moments of those thighs locked around his hips or spread wide for him to kneel between them. He had to pause for another sip of wine when he reached Anders’ cock, the arc of it laid against his abdomen, rising and falling with his every anxious breath.

Fenris knew the weight of it in his hand, the taste and texture of it on his tongue, and the thrust of it inside him. His own cock resonated with his memories, growing harder when he would have sworn that was impossible.

He set the wine aside and rose from the chair. Anders drew breath to speak but subsided at a hard look from Fenris. More than anything else, Fenris suspected that not speaking was the hardest part for Anders. Of the things Fenris had planned for the night, he thought that requiring Anders’ silence was the most sadistic.

As hard as he was, kneeling in his leathers was almost an act of masochism itself, but Fenris dropped to his knees with a grace that belied his discomfort. It was worth it to keep Anders guessing, to keep him needing, and to keep Anders’ eyes on him, knowing that Anders was not thinking about his blighted manifesto or the plight of mages or anything but him

He put a hand on Anders’ stomach, the sharp tips of the gauntlet lightly pressing into his skin. Anders shivered and sucked in his stomach before catching himself to arch up into the touch, making the metal claws press divots in his skin. Fenris pressed harder until Anders sucked in his stomach again, then stroked his bare finger pads over the red marks the claws left.

He raised his hand and let a faint smile touch his lips before he brought the claws down on Anders’ chest, dragging the metal over a pectoral until a sharp tip was a breath away from Anders’ right nipple. He saw Anders’ stop breathing before he continued the claw’s path, careful not to draw blood as the metal passed over the sensitive bit of flesh.

“Ah!” Anders squirmed and turned his head to muffle his next outcry against his shoulder. Fenris’ lips spread wider as he dragged one claw tip up the length of Anders’ shaft and Anders’ cries grew more desperate. Anders trembled from head to toe with the effort of holding still under the careful touch, letting out a breath and all the tension in his body only to tense and start trembling anew when Fenris put a clawtip at the base of his cock before he flattened his finger to trace the faint red line from the claw with his finger pad.

He repeated and expanded the game until the entire front of Anders’ body from head to throat was a tracery of light scratches and Anders was writhing under every touch, sometimes light scratches, sometimes firm caresses over the scratches.

Anders finally forgot that he was forbidden to speak and began to beg. “Please, please, please.” He kept his hands under his back, but his feet scrabbled at the carpet and his pelvis thrust up in the air whenever there wasn’t a claw on his cock or dragging over the delicate skin of his scrotum.

 _“Please!”_

Fenris bit back his own response of _“finally,”_ and held out a hand over Anders’ chest. “Take off my gauntlet.”  

• • •

Anders lay cradled against Fenris’ chest in the drifting weightlessness of the bathtub. In the silence, in the warmth, in the wordless post-sex intimacy, they could let the intensity of the prior hours fade away.

Fenris idly squeezed runnels of water out of a washcloth over Anders’ chest, lips turning up at the corners when Anders wiggled his hips in the hold of Fenris’ thighs and let his head fall back.

“Better?”

Fenris spread the washcloth out on Anders chest and kissed his temple before saying, “Yes. I had no doubt that I had your complete attention.”

Anders breathed a soundless laugh, tilting his head into the press of Fenris’ lips. “We’ll do this whenever you feel neglected?”

“Why wait?” Fenris asked. “Unless your spirit still does not understand what we did.”

Anders was silent, perhaps consulting Justice, perhaps just enjoying the moment before he murmured. “He understands.”

“Does he?” Fenris shifted Anders until he could see his face in profile. “Does he understand who had the power in there?”

Dreamily, sounding detached and not quite himself, Anders softly said, “Anders had the power. He could say no, or stop, or too much and you would have stopped as though it had been an order and not a plea. He gave you his trust, and you gave him control in his loss of it.”  

Fenris shifted Anders back onto his chest and slid down in the water until their shoulders were submerged.

“It was an even exchange,” Fenris said, letting the bath’s heat lull him until his eyes slid closed and his words were almost slurred with relaxation to the brink of actual sleep. “I could have the certainty that comes from giving up my power without feeling like a slave.”


End file.
